


Peace of Place

by pseudofaux



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: Chizuru got an eye for that tiddy, F/M, First Time, could harada be??? any sweeter??? i think not, don't we all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 19:58:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18763171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudofaux/pseuds/pseudofaux
Summary: Male skin has always been in her life, from boys around her trying to look like men to the actual men in her father's care. When she sees Harada's understated display of acertain amountof skin, Chizuru is fascinated.





	Peace of Place

**Author's Note:**

> [jaciinclays](http://jaciinclays.tumblr.com) requested Harada on tumblr when I opened quick asks. I'm so grateful she did! This Ao3 version is a bit worked up from the original.

Chizuru had spent time around boys as she grew up, in the dojo and in the common spaces of Edo. They were all very proud to show off their bodies, thin as they were, as though a doctor's daughter wouldn't know the difference between a true muscle's flex and the youthful trembling of a puffed-out chest. Boys wanted notice, boys wanted praise. Their eagerness to be admired was natural as the sound of flies. There was nothing deeply offensive about it, but nothing about them interested her.

She had spent practically no time with _men_. None whatsoever with the bodies of men outside her father's clinic. So perhaps it was innocent curiosity that pulled her eyes to Harada-san’s chest during her first days of captivity in Kyoto. The strong, half-covered skin he displayed without any fanfare... it made her feel like there were goosebumps on the inside of her own skin, like something was rousing her, pressing on her thoughts. Nagakura-san showed more of himself, but even though he was clearly not a boy (so much broader! a voice so much lower!) there was something impish about him. Harada-san had the confident stillness of a man.

It seemed to her that as a man, he had chosen to hide some of himself to keep her safe. From what, she wasn't sure, wasn't sure enough of herself to guess. But she knew there was something new in her. Under the happiness of being allowed a new measure of freedom among the Shinsengumi, so many feelings braided themselves tightly around her heart: respectful wonder, admiration, _curiosity_. Alone, she would think about the muscular chest framed by scarlet and how much it resembled a path from his belly to his throat, where his voice lived. Most of the time he had a man's calm, and the quiet drag and rumble of his speech did more to ruin her own calm than she understood. 

He was wary of her in her first days with the Shinsengumi, and in his watching her, he caught her watching him. Even on his guard, he was gentle with her in a way the others could not seem to be. He teased her about plenty of things and continued to quietly assure everyone he would kill her if necessary, but he smiled often. And he never teased her about looking at him. So she kept looking.

* * *

The first time she touched that chest, the contact was from proximity, not purpose. Her fingers shook on his skin as he hid her face under Shinsengumi blue. She could feel his muscles pushing against her hand and her back as they breathed there in the alley. The strength of his heart beating made her feel stronger.

The second time she touched his chest was somewhere much safer, and he blinked at her slowly and smiled that gentle, welcoming smile. He did not pressure her.

The third time, she was already half in love with him, and she tried to keep her nerve as she bandaged a deep cut just above his nipple. Her hands begged for more contact with the swell of healthy skin, but when she finished she only whispered “I am glad you are alive.” He put one of his warm hands on her head and smiled for her.

The fourth time she touched his chest, she slid her finger down the valley between his muscles, finally feeling what had been at the center of all her happiest dreams. Harada’s eyelids-- he was more than “Harada” by then but she wouldn't chance ruining the moment-- fluttered closed and his mouth parted for a soft groan. She followed her desire right to those lips, pressed clumsy closed-mouthed kisses to them and hoped he was as happy as she was. “Chizuru-chan,” he said, so low and close she trembled.

It was nighttime in the garden when he taught her how to kiss. Her fingertips felt nearly at home on his chest by then, but for the learning he put her hands at the back of his neck. The flying feeling of kissing him made her forget to miss it. Their lives in Kyoto were filled with honor and dread, staved off by golden good times and the rightness of the Shinsengumi's purpose. His mouth on hers removed all apprehension, made her feel alight from the inside. Murmurs against her throat made her glow golden in her very own way.

Another night, in his room, he asked very sweetly if he might be allowed to see _her_ chest. Her blush made him grin and her determination to show him made him laugh. “Slowly,” he clarified. “You don’t need to rush.” He pulled her clothing loose and slid his hands from her shoulders down, all with a touch so full of gentle, trustworthy  solidity she thought she might cry. When he kissed her breasts she did cry out, overwhelmed in the best way. Instinct and willingness curled her fingers in his hair, and he followed her every wordless prompt for less, for _more_.

* * *

He promised he would take her and take care of her however she liked once her body was broken in, but he insisted she control their first time, have the control over the breaking. The night they chose, one of her hands was in his against the floor, and the other was flat against his naked chest to help her remain stable as she brought her body down around him. The pleasurable burn he had stoked in her helped alleviate moments of discomfort, and when he brought her other hand to his chest and covered her hands there with his own, his smile was proud. She gratefully whispered “ _Sanosuke_ ,” and let her arms take her weight so she could follow her desire again.

When she found what she needed, she pressed her forehead into the swell of his chest and ground herself against him, gasping as he thrust up into her in a rhythm she knew she could trust him to keep. The friction freed her to see a new kind of gold behind her tightly-shut eyelids, brilliant gold and mahogany red, sacred and natural and glorious.

As she caught her breath, she thought she understood something new about why celebrations were decorated with the brightest forms of those beautiful colors. She kissed his chest while he stroked through the sweat in the small of her back.

* * *

Fate cut at them, and at their friends, without mercy. It was a long time before they had a measure of peace they could trust. She knew they only had it because Harada refused to consider anything else for her. They survived, to live with the solemn sadness of mourning honorable men who had not.

But it was not all sadness, and they did have peace. In time, a precious little head's favorite—only— place to sleep was safe against Harada's chest. Thankfully, it was a man’s chest, broad enough for Chizuru to sleep there, too. Her nose touched their baby's and her cheek rested against her husband's skin, tucked in close, treasured. She was, after all the strife they had endured together, blessed with a place in the world so sweet she knew dreams could not match it.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm over on [tumblr](http://pseudofaux.tumblr.com) if you'd like to say hi. :)


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